A Great Day for Freedom
by The SeaBear
Summary: "I'm the one that's got to die when it's time for me to die, so let me live my life the way I want to." Twenty-Six will go into the arena alive. Only one will come out that way. The question is... Who? A Great Day for Freedom: The 247th Hunger Games have begun .


**A/N: Oh dear. Here you go. The first chapter of my first story. I tried not to make it_ that_ long. Oh well. Anyways, in order to continue my story I need a few more male tributes, so just visit my profile for my information on that... hope you guys out there like it. **

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**Nero Nikoli,District 1 – Age 17**

Spotting the drawer is easy. It's the only one completely pushed back in the dresser, it's the only one without a label, and it's the only one with imperfections. It's chipped and scratched in countless places, and handle looks as if it has it has been tugged out countless times, and then shoved back in to place with force. These were caused by my father chucking the drawer at the wall, as he did many things after my mother left. My brow furrows at the memory as I open the patina-lacking drawer and find the one and only thing that's inside. It's my mother wedding ring.

A voice comes at the door. "Nero. Just what _are_ you doing?" I turn to see the icy blue eyes that have been stalking me for the past few weeks. While shoving the ring casually into the back pocket of the black slacks I plan on changing, I stare into those iceberg holes that my "stepmother" posses.

"Looking for something," I reply tensely, pushing past the awful being who calls herself Ataisia. She whips around her neatly combed red hair flying, and I feel her eyes, like lasers, burning two, perfect holes in my back as I quickly climb the stairs to my room.

Our house is huge. My father, Magnus, believes wealth decides everything, especially power, so after he gained enough from gambling on who will come out of the Hunger Games alive, he, against my mother's will, bought the biggest house he could find, to show just how much "power" he had. But now, the house is practically mine, for Magnus is out drinking and meeting new women most of his time. Locking myself in my room, I collapse on my bed happily, remembering that this will be the last time I'll be in this stupid house in a long time. In fact, it might be the last time. The next time I'm in District 1, I'll be a victor, living in the Victor's Village. Today is reaping day, and I'm volunteering for the Hunger Games this year. I'll bring glory to my District, the kind they have felt time and time again. I'll eliminate them all, quickly, without mercy, and I'll feel nothing from their deaths… because I'm going to show my father that _power_ should indicate who has the most power. I hustle on my newly polished, black dress shoes and when I've decided I look official enough, I head out the door promptly so Ataisia wouldn't notice until I was at least half way to my destination: The Training Center.

I arrive there in a minute's notice, regarding how incredibly fast I am, and I walk in the glass doors, to see something I don't think I ever see unless on reaping days. There are no trainers, just a group of kids like me. We're all here to practice our skills before we attempt to volunteer. I grab my sword and begin cutting off dummies heads when a tall girl with black, curly hair walks up. I plan on continuing to viciously torture the dummies, figuring the girl is watching out of admiration… but then change my mind when her presence starts to _really _piss me off.

"_What?"_I snap, swinging around, my sword level with her stomach.

"Hi, I'm Alex." She sticks her hand out, expecting me to shake it, but when I do nothing but glance at it annoyingly, she pulls it back in. "I couldn't help but notice your fighting skills with your sword."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"You're only using your right hand. I take you plan to volunteer this year?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Me too. So if you want to protect yourself, I'd learn to use your left hand, too, it'll help… see?" She takes two swords from the bucket and runs through the crowd of fake people, taking out their heads, and hacking away at torsos too. I start to bubble with anger for her trying to show me up.

"Get the hell away from me," I seethe. She just shrugs and drops the swords as she walks away.

"Good luck."

After I know she's too involved in her training to notice me, I walk over and pick the swords up, choosing the sharpest one to accompany the one that's already found its place in my hand. I grudgingly assemble the dummies again and start to run through them. But the girl is right. My left hand is weak, and when I try copy her perfect strokes, I fail… horribly. My mind goes blank and I frantically look around the room to see the girl is watching me, pleased.

I leave the Training Center.

I'm not sure where I should go, and I soon find myself wandering to the town square. The clock reads around twelve-twenty. That gives me forty minutes to pick at my hands and kick pebbles. Who knew how fast time flies kicking pebbles and thinking about your future? Next time I glance at the huge clock I find I have fifteen minutes, and people are already piling in. My chest swells with anticipation and I check in, and then direct myself to the seventeens' section. I take my place and think of a path to get to the stage. Craning my neck, I start to search the crowds of thousands of citizens who have come to see the reapings, and who have to take part in the reapings. But then I see….

_Oh God._ The drunk and the devil have come to watch me.

"Hello to all you citizens of District 1! Rumor has it these games will be truly un-for-gettable!" All attention is trained on Miss Fluray Joiner our lovely pink and purple escort- literally. And please, believe me the "lovely" part, that was sarcasm. Lots and lots of sarcasm. Fluray continues to babble on and hands the microphone to the mayor. I'm guessing he's just as excited as the rest of us, because after only a small speech he gives the stage back to the escort. It wasn't the usual death-boring speech.

"Okay! I suspect we're ready! Let us start with the lovely ladies!" She glides to the right of the stage. She stuffs her fat hand in the bowl, filled to the brim, and snatches a slip of paper. Awkwardly walking back to the microphone, she leans in and says the name.

"Ah, here we go…. Jenson Trapp!" I know the cameras have found the girl but she stays still, she knows what's to come.

"Any volunteers?" I cover my ears, something I've forgotten to do the past years. Girls have high-pitched voices. It hurts. After the mess of volunteering is done with, Fluray picks a girl who is already making her way to the stage anyways and my jaw tightens.

"And what's your name, dear?"

"Alexia Monroe."

A.K.A Alex.

A.K.A Girl from the Training Center.

"How wonderful, a volunteer!" I think we all had to roll our eyes at that one, judging by the fact someone volunteers _every_ year. "How about our young men?" I watch as she elegantly struts to the left glass bowl, filled with all the boys' names in it. Once again, her fat, purple hand goes down, than the bowl spits it back up, paper in hand. Wait for it… wait for it…

"Lavish Maartin!" NOW!

"I VOLUNTEER!" _Perfect._

"Wow! He didn't even wait! He's so excited! Come on to the stage, dear…. Now what's your name?"

"Nero Nikoli."

She laughs. "Well, Nero, Panem better watch out. Somebody's here to win."

**Alexia Monroe, District 1 - Age 17**

Convincing Jay to do something is like beating a dead horse: I already know the outcome, and yet I stand here, under the big pear tree in Jay's yard, in my reaping day-white-shirted-lavender-skirted-outfit, trying to change her mind with _completely ridiculous_arguments. "Aw come on Jay. What if... what if I don't get there in time, to the stage I mean? What if I'm not quick enough? And... And what if I'm not loud enough and they don't hear me volunteering.

To my dismay, hard-headed Jaylee Young, long time best friend, won't budge. "Alex, number one, you're _way_ faster than I am. I think if you didn't get there, I wouldn't either. Number two, you're _way_more obnoxious than I am, too. Trust me, you'll be heard." She had a point. "C'mon Alex, let's go to the training center." It's about eleven in the afternoon, reapings are at one, but there's plenty I still want to do.

"I want to see mom and dad first." We walk the three-mile trip to my medium-sized, wooden home and knock on the door. A middle-aged woman answers the door.

"Hey mom," I say grinning. Jay and I practically invite us inside the cozy place, throwing our bodies on the comfy, red sofa that seems to eat you when you sit in it; you sink you down so far. I stare into the fire-place, made of stone, and listen to the boxy television that sits on a bookshelf my father made. The television is so old you cannot look at its fuzzy screen without getting a terrible headache. That's why I choose to listen instead. A mushy soap opera is on, I believe. Mom shuffles around in the kitchen that sits in a room left of the living room. I hear a clash of silverware and plates and roll my green eyes to Jay. She giggles. A few minutes subsequent mom walks in with a plate of orange slices, and hands it to me. I love oranges. She sits down in my dad's green, velvet chair and stares at me. I stuff oranges in my mouth and give her a puzzled look.

"What?" I question her, spitting bits of food everywhere, making Jay cringe.

"Nothing. I'm just happy. I'm proud. I can't believe you're volunteering! Oh, Alexia I'm so, so proud!" my happy mom exclaimed. And she was right, she should be proud, I was proud, dad was proud, and I think even Jay was happy for me.

I smooth out my pretty skirt and inhale the rest of the fruit. When I win the Hunger Games, I have my return plan. First is the victor's interview. "I was sorry to kill, ya' know, but I had to, I did it to bring glory to my District," I'd tell Lady Opal, the clumsy Capitol woman who took over the job as the interviewer a few years back. Then I'd be engulfed with messages of congrats and a crowds of cheers when I return to District 1. _Just smile and wave, Alexia, just smile and wave._ Later, Xavier and I would go to the Victor's Village and pick out my future house. We'd pick the gorgeous white brick one, with the big yard. Xavier Easton is my boyfriend, who I plan to live with after my return home.

"We should get going." It's the only thing I can think of saying after snapping out of my trance. Jay nods and we decide to take the long way to the Training Center. This way is avoiding the main town and walking through the long streets of houses. District 1 is so luxurious compared to the outlying districts and their pictures that I'd seen in the books dad has. They're just filled with a rotting race.

I turn towards Jay and push the glass doors of the center open. Inside is a killer's paradise. The floors are made of a cushiony mat to break any fall and the ceilings are practically rope and beam, good for climbing and eating lunches on. All the walls are stockpiled with weapons: knives and bows and maces and tridents and spears and scythes and bludgeons hanging from every wall, and countless barrels of swords and arrows- oh God, it's wonderful. I take my pick at a dagger with a newly sharpened blade, and place myself in front of the "in-action" station. It's the one with the moving dummies. Jay stands beside me and hits a button to make the fake people move. I time myself and sprint at one, and I grab it by the neck and push its forehead back, so the sky would be the last thing this victim ever saw. I plunge my sword in its neck and pull out letting the dummy fall to the floor.

"Aw shucks, Alex. That was the best kill I've seen in a while!" Jay exclaims, jogging over while leaving her arrows in the chest of one, quite unfortunate, foam being. I grin at her as a blonde boy enters the center. I continue with my training, though silently watching the boy, straining my eyes on his skill. There is one thing that gets me enough to walk over to him and correct it. I stand over his shoulder, waiting for him to say something first. And he does. The boy twirls around and positions his sword at my stomach.

"What?" He snaps at me, bringing his jaw down hard enough his teeth had to be sore the next morning. Mmmm, feisty.

I cheerfully stick my hand out, "Hi, I'm Alex.", but then I take it back to my side after realizing this boy wasn't too friendly. "I couldn't help but notice your fighting skills with a sword." I make small talk with him and figure out he's planning to volunteer this year, too. _Just watch_ I tell him and eventually I walk over to the sword bucket to pick up two, nicely shined blades. This boy is arrogant, very arrogant, but hilariously, he seemingly cannot gather his courage enough to try the harder station. _Maybe it's the only thing he's good._I position myself for a quick take off in front of the stationary, too closely grouped, dummies. Seriously. If I were to swing blindly and miss the head I was shooting for, I'd still hit another anyways.

Long story short, I walk away from that station, leaving behind beheaded dummies with chopped away mid-sections, and one steaming boy that curses me out as I go. And after blondey finds out he can't perfect the skill without practice, I hear the door slam after him while he marches down the road.

"He left!" I yell, laughing so hard my next attack was just horrifically tragic, and I nearly took out the fire extinguisher. We leave about twenty-five minutes later, figuring there's no reason to wait. Besides we stayed the maximum amount of time, leaving just enough time to get there before the peacekeepers had permission to arrest us.

We get to the square- the gorgeous place in the dead center of the District, that doesn't really serve any other purpose but our reaping place anymore, since the Hunger Games have become so severely popular here- with about no time to spare, regarding that we're supposed to be there twenty-five minutes early. Jay and I hurry to the girls' seventeen section, and I have to admit, I think there was a slight bounce in my steps.

Looking around, I cannot seem to find my parents, but I do see my trainer, for he is in the very front of the crowd with the adults and small children.

"Ah, here we go... Jenson Trapp!" Holy...! Oh my freaking... Mother of... _Please_ say that was the girls' name. My mind is rushing with "Oh no" thoughts, and I'm cursing me and my drifting mind.

"Any volunteers?" Screams of pleads echo throughout the girls' section, including mine. The escort waves her hands down for us to quiet down. She plans to pick herself who will come to the stage. _Oh, what the heck,_I think, and begin the short walk to the stage's stairs, forcing the woman to pick me.

But hey, that's how life goes. Step up, or step aside.

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**A/N: There you go. That's it. Done. Forever. Just kidding. I'm almost positive there were no spelling or grammer mistakes, except the ones that were supposed to be there. If there were go ahead and pm me about them... And maybe while you're at it... you can give me a tribute or two...**** _ PLEASE _REVIEW**

**Sorry that Chapter 2 is taking so long, it's just I've been so busy this week. I planned on having it up Wednesday but now it could be another good week.**


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